


without a doubt

by vanasha



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Tsundere Tsukishima Kei, this is just soft y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanasha/pseuds/vanasha
Summary: It’s annoying enough to be on the train in the first place, crowded by so many people, pressed together in such a tight space. He’s busy choosing the next song so he doesn’t look up when a voice interrupts him."This seat taken?“Or, Tsukishima doesn't have a great time on the train right until he does.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	without a doubt

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like writing and reading something soft about this nerd, that's all. So naturally I made it everyone else's problem.

He hardly notices the landscape outside of the window. Not that anyone would know, with the way he continues to gaze outside, but the view holds nothing new to him.

He sees it every day. He had in the past and will continue to do so, at least for the near future. It’s pretty, yeah, but doesn’t really hold his interest.

No, he’s waiting.

The only thing Tsukishima makes sure to pay attention to when riding the train is to catch a seat where he doesn’t have to fold himself in half to actually sit down. He needs room for his legs and space on his left and right, that’s all. Everything else is easy enough to drown out by either music or his phone. God knows he’ll snap if he has to listen to one more dumb conversation someone on the train is too stupid enough to either make at home or at a reasonable volume.

He also makes sure he gets a place with an empty seat next to his. And without fail, he is always putting his bag on it.

It’s annoying enough to be on the train in the first place, crowded by so many people, pressed together in such a tight space. It’s even more annoying when they think they can just get into his personal bubble, breathing in his face, bothering him with their perfume or even worse their gross sweat. (He made sure to shower after training and use deodorant, it’s not that fucking hard, you guys.)

And it’s not even rush hour, for god’s sake.

It’s not hard for him to ignore people asking for the seat next to him, not when's making a show of looking the other way or turning his music just a notch louder.

He hardly looks up at the sound of the train doors opening. People rush out and people rush in, it’s the same every stop.

This one though, this one is the only one where he actually turns the volume on his phone down. It’s the same everytime the train stops at this station.

Cold air seeps in as soon as the doors open, makes him put his chin a bit more in the fur of his jacket.

There’s a child crying somewhere in this compartment, he can hear that now. A young woman on a phone, complaining about her boyfriend. A group of teenagers talking crap about some dumb musician.

Tsukishima immediately wishes he could go back to drowning them out.

He’s busy choosing the next song so he doesn’t look up when a voice interrupts him.

"This seat taken?“

He can hear the smile in your tone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you holding your bag in front of you, as if afraid of pickpockets. The corner of his mouth twitches because _he_ told you to be wary of them, the news reporting an increase of incidents where wallets and phones get picked right out of bags and pockets. Everytime he lectured you on it you only rolled your eyes, and here you are now, following his advice as if you never mocked him for giving it to you.

His own bag lands in between his shoes before he even registers that he moved, emptying the seat next to him.

The quiet thanks, still with that damned smile audible in that single word, earns only a vague hum into the fur of his jacket and then there is a warm and familiar body right next to him. Your arms and legs are still cold from the weather outside but Tsukishima suddenly feels a lot warmer. 

It’s like every bit of tension he wasn’t even aware of left his body the moment you touched him.

His hand hovers over his headphones for a second, not sure if you’re in the mood for conversation. The decision is made for him when you look through your bag, fishing out a book.

Back to music, it is.

It’s still on a volume where he could hear anything you’d say without a problem if you changed your mind but still loud enough to put his mind at ease. The same way his body already is.

It has been this way ever since university.

Always on the same train, once in the morning, once in the evening. And nearly all the time, at least as far as he can remember, you’ve been there too.

First only as a nuisance, one more person on a train to personally bother him.

Then as someone that was at the least tolerable to sit next to.

Later as someone to look forward to.

Now, though?

Tsukishima checks the time on the display of the train. You’re half-way home already.

The windows are partially fogged up, it’s gonna be a cold walk home. He forgot his gloves, noticed that as soon as he arrived at work, and he knows you’re going to tease him about that.

He knows that he will distract you long enough to put his hands in the pockets of your coat and that while you’re going to complain about it, _loudly_ , you’re going to let him get away with it.

There’s a soft expression on his face as he puts his head on yours. It has been resting on his shoulder for a good ten minutes now, your eyes still on the pages in front of you.

Only when he’s reading over your shoulder and is a couple of sentences in does he realise that it’s one of his books.

"Thief,“ he mumbles into your hair, without any bite. He’s already curious how you like it, seeing that you’re half-way done with it.

"Why, Kei, because I stole your heart?“ You reply in a deadpan voice without missing a beat, and the only thing Tsukishima can do is blink.

And then blink once more.

And then there’s a laugh fighting its way out of his throat that starts out quiet but that he ends up hiding in the fur of his coat because he really didn’t expect such a lame answer.

A minute later his shoulders are still shaking and he’s trying to pull himself together. He still feels the glee you’re practically beaming with.

Fuck, you have no idea how right you are.

He loves how _easy_ this is. All of this, sitting next to you, without really having to fill the silence.

It’s not always like this, mind you. Sometimes he’s so worked up about something from work that he complains to you the moment you sit down because he has been dying to let it all out. Sometimes you do the complaining. Sometimes you get off the train one station too early to walk the mood off.

Sometimes he doesn’t catch a seat and so he waits by the door for you.

Other times you wordlessly pull his phone out of your hands to put your own headphones into it so that the both of you can listen to his music in peace (like some freaking grandma, who even does _owns_ headphones with a cord anymore?). Sometimes all you do is complain about his taste (which is impeccable, thank you very much) and get out your own phone.

Sometimes you doze off on the way and you practically lie on his arm while he’s on his phone. He has more than one selfie that he took while you look like an idiot next to him.

(He also has a couple that he doesn’t show you, some that he rather saves for himself just because he enjoys looking at them.)

His favourite thing is something he’ll never admit to you even though he’s pretty sure you already know about it. It’s not that easy to hide.

It’s when he catches your face the exact same moment you spot him in his seat.

Because in that case there is often such a sweet- dopey, _stupid_ smile on your face that he can literally feel the blood rush to his ears.

He's sure he could forget everything else when he’s with you like this.

When he’s with you, period.

And he knows there are a lot of people that don’t get it. That don’t get _him_.

Which is alright. Which is mostly suiting him perfectly fine, actually.

And yet-

He looks through the crowd, paying attention to them for the first time, and he distantly remembers feeling hurt when Hamada, one of his less annoying co-workers, spotted him on the train while the both of you were already on your way home. You with your book in your hands and him on his phone, bought groceries already at his feet.

Hamada was used to his stern behaviour and his moods by now, being around them five days out of the week. He was chatting along about something and neverminding his colleagues silence or his bored expression. Which turned less and less bored and more irritated when he noticed how Hamada, standing in front of you, shamelessly kept smiling at you whenever you so much as looked his way.

Until Tsukishima realised that oh, right- he hadn’t introduced you.

So of course his colleague would think you to just be some pretty little stranger that was only sitting next to him because there was no other seat available.

Whatever Hamada rambled about was lost to him as he felt his brain heating up with a million questions and a million different scenarios.

 _Should_ he have introduced you? He didn’t give a shit about what someone from work thought of him or his private life, up until now he hadn’t even thought of saying something.

But did that bother you? Did it bother _him_? It certainly did that Hamada thought that he could pull a move on you, right in fucking front of him but-

Should he just put his arm around you to stop whatever Hamada dared to call flirting? Was this something you wanted from him? Was this expected?

Was this one more way of him screwing up the whole boyfriend-thing, not understanding social cues, letting you down in some way? Would you be offended if he tried making your relationship obvious now?

He wasn’t an idiot, he was just- he was just bad at this. His friends kept telling him so, they enjoyed being able to make fun of him for not enjoying PDA, but you never had so did that mean-

There was interest in Hamada’s eyes, clear as day, and for a whole second he felt envious because _Hamada_ didn‘t think twice about showing emotions, about acting on them. _Hamada_ smiled at people like no tomorrow, he was good at making friends, he was making it look so fucking easy and what if this is something you secretly want, something you’re hoping for and that he just can’t deli-

And then you uncrossed your legs and one of yours was touching his. You didn’t even look up, instead only turning a page in your book and yet to him it felt as if an invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Your presence, warm, comforting and just right there, was all it took.

Why the fuck was he even listening to Hamada talk when he just wanted to enjoy time with you?

Tsukishima’s eyes returned to his co-worker and he raised an eyebrow. "Don’t you think you bothered me enough for today?“

Hamada’s gaze dropped to where your bodies were touching, to the way Tsukishima’s lanky form seemed- seemed _relaxed_ in a way that he wasn’t used to seeing and suddenly it clicked.

Bashfully he rubbed his neck, suddenly feeling like an intruder. „Ah,“ he laughed while making his way to the other way of the train compartment, trying to act naturally and as if he just had a sudden change of heart. „Right, right, sorry, didn’t wanna bother you.“ He winked at you, making a note to ask Tsukishima about having a freaking girlfriend apparently, not that you looked up from your book to notice it.

From the glare his colleague threw at him, _he_ did.

"Nevermind me then, I think this is my stop anyway so- See you tomorrow!“

Tsukishima let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He felt the need to push his glasses up to bury his head in his hands but he swallowed it down.

He felt ridiculous. He felt like an idiot, making a fuss about nothing, or maybe about everything, in front of-

A hand on his thigh stopped his leg from mindlessly bobbing up and down. It also stopped the gears in his head from turning until they overheated.

"What a weirdo,“ you said, putting your head on his shoulder. "You deal with that chatterbox everyday?“

He snorted. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped it.

"Yeah, tell me about it,“ he let out another breath and turned his face enough that he could put his mouth on your head. It wasn’t an actual kiss, he told himself, he wasn’t that fucking sappy.

But his hand found yours and he gave it a squeeze.

You didn't let go.

Right now there’s no Hamada or anyone else that he knows in sight. And even if there was, he’d look the other way or throw such a glare at them that there was no mistaking in how much he wanted to be left alone.

No, right now he’s looking out of the window again, at the distant lights of the city that were visible in between then fog.

There are so many other people on the train with you right now, and yet they're the last thing on his mind.

Instead, he's thinking about how it’s about eight more minutes before you reach your destination.

He's thinking about how his head is on yours, and how the faint scent of your shampoo is a familiar and pleasant smell in his nose.

How your leg is touching his, and how he can see your foot vaguely moving to a rhythm no one else can hear.

How a quiet chuckle escapes you at something you read, seemingly unaware of anything around you.

And Tsukishima is sure that right now, without a doubt, there is no place he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know what you thought. Thank you for reading!<3


End file.
